Page 14 of Family First
“Seriously, you have to eat it. I forced some poor kid at the drive-through window to cook me this and add fries when they were only doing breakfast food.” Ten went closer, waving the bag back and forth as if tempting a dog with a bone. My belly snarled at the smell of flame-broiled goodness and French fries. I shook my head. Ten frowned, walked to me, and shoved the bag into my chest. I mumbled about pushy friends in Russian. “Whatever you just said I am sure it was thanks buddy.” Ten then bent down to press a kiss to my unwashed hair then hug me to him. I linked an arm around his middle, allowing my nose to press into his Railers hoodie and drew in a few dozen shaky breaths. “He’s going to be okay.” I drew back, opened the bag, and pulled out the somewhat flattened burger. “Eat that. You need to keep your strength up, my man.” I scowled at the food then sighed. Yes, he was right. “I saw Erik outside on the phone, talking to the girls at home and your mother. He said you needed food. I made him take a burger too. He called me a pushy asshole but went over to sit by the window to eat. So yeah, eat.”
“You are most pushy friend,” I stated before peeling back the wrapper to take a bite. Mm, yes, this was delicious. No wonder the King enjoyed it so much. “Thank you for being pushy friend.”
“Someone has to do it,” he teased, going around the bed to peel open a drapery panel to let some sun shine into the brightly painted room. There were little ducks and smiling chicks on the pale yellow walls, all fat and happy. They should stick fat ducklings on all hospital room walls instead of sterile white like I had stared at for days after my surgery. “Soren is taking a stuffed coyote to school to get the team to sign it, for their biggest fan and all that.’
“Good, yes, Noah will like this.” I swiped at the ketchup on my chin with a crinkled paper napkin, half the massive burger gone already. “He is sickly.”
“Yeah, I know. Jared and I have been peppering Erik with questions all night. Dude, you really should have your phone on,” he said, resting his backside on the air-conditioning unit under the window overlooking the Susquehanna River.
“No, I am not making phone calls to people. I need my head here on Noah,” I replied around a mouthful of ground beef, bun, and all the trimmings including extra pickles. Tennant was a very good friend for only the best of friends knew you liked extra pickles. “Erik is handling all that.”
“Is that really fair to place all of that on him though?” Ten asked, his gaze steady. I swallowed and averted my gaze. “I’m not trying to ride you at a time like this because I know that if it was one of my kids in that bed, I would be utter batshit crazy, but he’s just as freaked out as you are. Maybe just think about it?”
“You are marriage counselor now?” I asked, the prick of his words wounding me, for I knew they were true.
“Nope, not even close. Just a dumb puck-pusher. What I am though is married, and while I love this kid as if he was one of my own,” he waved a hand at Noah sound asleep in that big white bed, “I’m seeing things from the outside. And Erik is about to crack. So, stop hiding in here and being that big mean Russian bear you like other players to think you are, and just be the Stan that we all know and love.”
“Hmm, you are sounding like counselor to me.” Tennant shrugged and smiled just a bit. If I could reach him, I would hug him once more for he was the truest sort of friend. He would tell you the truth if you were being an ass. That was a rare thing. “I will turn on phone as soon as I am done eating.”
“Cool, so Jared and the kids and all the guys are sending love and hugs so make sure you drop into the team chat.”
“Da, yes, of course.” I shoved some fries into my mouth, and we fell into a warm silence, one that bolstered me with its quiet support. After I was done and had washed down the meal with some tepid water from a plastic pitcher, I pushed to my feet. “He will be okay,” I told Tennant.
“Of course, he will be.”
“I am not sure I am such a good parent right now,” I confessed just as Erik entered with coffee. Tennant stared at me as if I was mad, but I ignored him and lumbered into the bathroom to pee. I’d not done so all night, so the relief was great.
I lingered afterwards, washing my hands and face, running my wet fingers through my lank hair. I stared at myself, my weight on my crutches, and stared at the lines around my eyes. Life lines Mama called them, laugh lines Erik liked to say when he kissed them, wrinkles my children called them. I’d done so much in my life, won Stanley Cups, played in the Olympics, and had heard my name mentioned for a future slot in the Hockey Hall of Fame. So many achievements, so many days and weeks and months and years devoted to hockey. A lifetime of dedication and sacrifice to the sport but what had it gotten me? A child so sick he’d passed out with only his aged grandmother there to tend to him. I should have been home, not at the game enjoying myself, talking to the press about when I would return. I should have been home last night. Perhaps I should have been home for the entire season. Perhaps for all the seasons that we had children in our lives.
“Stan.” Erik opened the door a crack, enough to push his head through to find me examining myself in the mirror. “I have coffee.”
“Is he awake?”
“Not yet. Come out please.” I crutched my sorry ass back into the room, noting that Tennant was no longer here. I glanced at Erik who had taken over my seat by the bed, leaving me the chair by the window. “Ten left fifteen minutes ago.”
Oh. Had I been in that tiny bath with the open shower and emergency pull cord for over a quarter of an hour? How was that possible?
“I would have liked to say goodbye to him,” I stated, easing myself down with a moan then reaching for the large cup of coffee on the windowsill.
“Then you should have come out of the bathroom,” Erik said flatly, his focus on Noah as he sipped his coffee.
“Yes, that is true. I lost time…” I didn’t know how to explain what I had been doing staring at myself in a looking glass for so long.
Erik stared at me over his cup, his usually bright blue eyes listless. “You need to contact your mother. She’s beside herself, speaking to me in Russian which I’m not really able to follow when she starts racing along.”
“Yes, of course, I will call Mama.” I nodded as Erik flipped my phone to me, the Android sailing over Noah’s legs to land in my hand. An easy save. If only my lower half were as good as my upper half I’d be playing now instead of—
“And the girls. They want to hear from you. Eva is holding things down, but she’s just as scared as the rest of us even if she won’t show it. She keeps everything inside. You need to let her know that we’ve got things under control at this end so she can get some rest.”
“Yes, yes, I am going to do so. I know where my faults are, trust me. I do not need you telling me what a terrible father I am!”
His eyes flared. I blinked at the ferocity of my words.
“Papa,” Noah called. The lone word scratchy and weak but the most joyous sound I had ever heard. Not even the choirs of the angels could have sounded any sweeter. Erik flew to his feet, nearly dumping his coffee into his lap as I struggled to get up with one arm. “I feel terrible…”
“We know,” Erik whispered, sitting beside our son, his eyes wet with unshed tears as he cradled one of Noah’s small hands. I moved closer, one crutch under each arm, to gaze down at the tiny boy who owned such a large portion of my heart. “You’ll be better soon. We’re all going to do better.” Erik threw me a pointed look that sliced into me like a knife.
“Yes, we will do better,” I croaked, my eyes also growing dewy now. Amazing, as I had been sure there were no tears left to cry after the awful night that had just passed. “The doctors say you will be just fine, little bunny.”
